


A Favor for The Woman

by ineedthislikeaholeinthehead



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, First Time, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-18
Updated: 2012-08-18
Packaged: 2017-11-12 10:23:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/489823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineedthislikeaholeinthehead/pseuds/ineedthislikeaholeinthehead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Irene Adler asks Sherlock and John to fill in for some missing guests at a swingers party, John is surprised at how willing Sherlock is to help, but definitely willing to give it a try.</p><p>Time line is somewhere before the end of  "Scandal in Belgravia"</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Favor for The Woman

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic for this fandom. Hope you enjoy!

Text Message Received: I NEED A FAVOR.

“I don’t like this, Sherlock. I don’t like this at all.” John whined.  
“No. You’ve been complaining about how bored you’ve been for days. It’s distracting. You need to get out of the flat.”  
“Going to a swingers party for Irene Adler isn’t exactly what I had in mind!” John turned into the couch, attempting (but not achieving) a Sherlock level mope. “And don’t act like you have any vested interest in my social life. You’re just looking for an excuse to get me out of the flat so you can measure the evaporation rate of gin on leather coats in peace.”  
Sherlock was already out of his chair before the doctor had finished his complaint.  
“Don’t be silly, John… Of course I’m coming… I already know the evaporation rate of gin on leather.”   
“YOU’RE going to a party at Irene Adler’s?” John was up in a flash. “You do understand what happens at swingers parties, don’t you? People… PEOPLE, Sherlock, have sex.”  
“Yes, yes, yes. Hurry now, we’re going to be late.”  
“Late? It’s only half past 4… what time does she expect you to be there?”  
“Us, John… Us. And all in good time, but we need to drop by the morgue and pick up Molly.”  
“Molly? Why do we need Molly?”  
“Well, you don’t want to be the only one there without a date, do you?”  
“I—This seems highly out of the ordinary.” John says, while pulling on his jacket.   
“Isn’t that exactly what you need?”  
John had to admit, the idea of Molly had occasionally crossed his mind, and Sherlock was already down the stairs. John rushed out the door to catch up.  
“Sherlock… how do you know the evaporation rate of gin on leather?” He asked when he caught a whiff of something almost flammable coming off of himself.

“Thanks for letting me stop by my flat before we left. “ Molly said. She was directing her gratitude towards Sherlock, who was distractedly staring out the window in the front seat next to the cabbie. She could hardly be expected to thank John, who had finally convinced Sherlock that letting Molly change was absolutely necessary before bringing her around Irene’s place. It would have been nice if she’d at least shown a little gratitude considering where they were going…as a couple.  
“I can’t imagine anyone would have enjoyed the sight of me in that awfully drab old lab coat.” She continued, one hundred percent directed at Sherlock.  
“Don’t be silly, Molly.” He responded, and her eyes lit up. This was the closest thing to a compliment he’d said to her in months. A four word response almost counted as a conversation to Molly.  
“I doubt many people will be paying much attention to you at all.”  
From the outside, things looked as demur as always.   
“Wow, this place is really posh, isn’t it?” Ever the one for superfluous conversation, Molly commented.  
Kate opened the door, exposing the three to the heat, low music and her barely concealed body.  
“Oh good, you’re here.” She said, summoning them into the foyer. “She’s been expecting you.” She said, helping Molly out of her jacket.  
“Right.” Sherlock replied, walking straight into the parlour, where about a dozen masked individuals were in clumps, conversing.   
Irene was instantly by his side. “Put this on.” She handed him a mask.  
“Why? No one cares who I am, and I don’t care if they do.”  
“That’s not the point. It’s part of the game. The rules.”  
“Aren’t rules meant to be broken?”  
“They already have been. Put on your mask.”  
“Everyone’s here now.” Kate tells Irene, handing her a bowl. John and Molly trailing close behind.  
Irene grabs the bowl and Sherlock takes a piece of paper out of it.  
“This is how you’re going to do it? Not very clever at all.” he begins to drop the paper back into the bowl, disappointedly, but she stops him, wrapping his long fingers over it.  
“This serves the purpose. Never waste time being clever when you can be resourceful.” Kate grabs a paper from the bowl, and then Irene offers it to John and Molly. “Go on… take one.” They both nervously look at each other before John takes out two slips of paper and hands one to Molly, who begins to open it.  
“Not yet.” Kate says, putting her hands over Molly’s.  
Irene weaves her way through the clusters of masked people in the room until the bowl is empty, and everyone has a piece of paper in their hand.  
“It’s time. You all hold in your hands a card containing a colored dot. For the most part, these are paired.“ She walks to a gentleman and asks “May I see your card, please?” He hands it to her, and she opens it, revealing a large emerald green dot.  
“Please, open your cards… and would the person with the green spot please escort this gentleman upstairs?”  
After a moment, a small woman gingerly makes her way to the gentleman, and they both smile and begin to walk upstairs.  
“I take it you all understand how this works.” Irene says, opening her card, showing a bright blue dot, when across the room, John looks over to Molly, who is holding the matching blue card. Next to her, Kate opens her card, revealing the same shade of blue.  
“That doesn’t seem right.” John says as a couple find their color mates behind him.   
“Something wrong, Dr. Watson?” Irene sneaks out from the shadows as another couple find each other and walk past them.  
“I just thought we were supposed to be paired up is all. Three isn’t a real pair.”  
“Oh, don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll still find your match.” She says before taking Molly and Kate by the wrists and gently pulling them towards the stairs.  
John looks down at his card, a deep crimson dot on the crème cardstock.  
“Want to trade with me Sherlock?”  
“I suppose so.” He hasn’t even opened his card before he hands it to John, who opens it and swears.  
“What?”  
John hands both cards back to Sherlock. They Match.  
The door was barely closed before Sherlock had taken off his shirt.  
“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked.  
“I’m aware that it’s possible to have intercourse with your clothes on John, but seeing as we do have the privacy of our own room, I thought it might make for easier clean up if we removed them.”  
“Who says we’re having intercourse?”  
“I thought that’s why you agreed to come in the first place. You know, human urges, clear your mind… get a nut off.”  
“I’m going to file away your use of that phrase for the time being, because I’d like to first address the fact that I was expecting to be paired up with a woman. You know… some one of the opposite sex… Because I’m a straight man…”  
Sherlock had grown weary of John’s hyperheterosexual rants long ago, and was sitting on the bed, removing his shoes before he’d finished.  
“That doesn’t seem to be pertinent to our situation.”   
“Sexual attraction isn’t something that you can just turn on and off like a faucet, Sherlock.”  
“So, it’s not ‘simple’ then?”  
“No, it’s incredibly complex!”  
“To you.”  
“To everyone, Sherlock! Even you can’t control it!”  
“No. I suppose I can’t.” Sherlock stands back up, dropping his pants to unashamedly expose his already hardened prick. In a misguided attempt at propriety, John nervously looks away. Sherlock grabs John’s face, and stares into his eyes. “But, what I see in your flawed argument is this. You claim that you are so heterosexual that you could not possibly go through with an agreement you willingly started, yet your main argument seems to be that sexuality is too complex to simply categorize.”  
“I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”  
“I’m asking if you believe what you’ve said, that sex is complicated.”  
“I do.”   
“Then why shouldn’t we try it?”  
“Because I’m straight.”  
There is a stillness in the space between Sherlock’s naked body and John’s fully clothed one. The silence between the two of them bounces between their bodies for a second that feels like eternity.  
“Then why,” Sherlock asks, “are you as aroused as I am?”  
“I’ve got to be honest… I wasn’t quite expecting this when Sherlock asked me if I wanted to go out tonight.” Molly said.  
“Poor thing… Hoping for an intimate dinner with the detective… Are you disappointed?” Irene asked, tightening the restraints around Molly’s wrists as Kate’s tongue worked her way down the mortician’s surprisingly taut belly. Molly writhes, her soft short breaths interrupted by each flick of Kate’s tongue.  
“Not at all.” She manages to get out.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” John says, his shirt half unbuttoned and Sherlock’s hands working quickly to remove it.  
“I find that hard to believe, John. Surely you’re much more acquainted to the mechanics of this sort than I am. “ He says between quick pecks on John’s exposed neck and shoulders.  
“You’re using this as the time to finally admit that I might know more about something than you do?”  
“John, I would never deign to think that I always know more than you.” His lips brushed against john’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine that would have been amazing if Sherlock hadn’t continued whispering, “I only know more about important things.”  
What am I doing? John tried to answer the question ringing through his head as his hand—completely on its own, wrapped around Sherlock’s prick. The warmth sent more shivers down John’s body, there was no denying the attraction now. Part of John’s mind wanted to push Sherlock away, to slug him for having no questions about this. For being so willing to give in to something that felt so confusing. There wasn’t a way to get out from under the argument Sherlock was presenting. “We fancy each other, we’re curious, and our bodies seem to be ok with it.” Why couldn’t he for once just understand how it would make him feel afterwards?  
It didn’t matter how much John wanted to hit Sherlock at that moment, because the part that won out was John’s other hand, wrapping around Sherlock’s neck and pulling the taller man’s head down for a kiss. When their tongues touched is was explosive. John could feel the shudder in his other hand, and in his own incredibly restrictive pants.   
Sherlock didn’t want to end the kiss, so he bit John’s lip, perhaps a little harder than necessary, when John went to disengage, attempting to unfasten his belt. Pushing his hands back, Sherlock unfastened the belt and with a swift tug and a loud CRACK, the belt was off, tossed on the bed so he could work on the more pressing matter of unbuttoning and unzipping, and FINALLY freeing John.  
The sight of John completely defrocked was something of a shock for Sherlock. Curiosity fired out from every inch of his body, until he could endure it no longer and feverishly pulled John onto the bed with him. The dark shadows of the room swirled around their bodies and Sherlock, not quite himself but not exactly overcome yet, made a note of his increased heartbeat, the endorphins flooding his body, the overall NEW high he was achieving as his lips smashed viciously against John’s.  
The feeling wasn’t exactly mutual for John, but his confusion was lessening with each passing second that Sherlock’s throbbing cock was pressed against his own. Every inch of their joined skin was emanating a red hot fire that he’d never dreamed would be ignited by another man. Through heavy breaths, he slipped his tongue into Sherlock’s mouth. Guiding him through this new world of kissing.   
Sherlock was a quick learner, and soon was exuberantly experimenting with the techniques of his tongue on John’s neck and chest. When he felt and heard John’s reaction to his tongue on his nipple, he quickly made his way lower, eager to see what the response would be on other highly erogenous zones.   
John nearly lost it when he felt Sherlock’s lips around the head of his penis. He was a fast learner! And for all the times Sherlock had failed to realize when John had left the flat for hours, he certainly was making it up to him by being so in tune, so attentive to knowledge of John’s physical presence. It was almost as if he could predict exactly what John needed before he even knew what he wanted- it was amazing!  
Of course, it wasn’t hard for Sherlock to predict what he needed. Living with him for the past year had made it all but impossible not to read John like the (endearingly) open book that he was. Every twitch or shift told Sherlock exactly how much harder to suck, how much more to let down his throat… as predictable and mechanical as the whole experience was, as John gushed into his mouth, Sherlock had to admit (to himself, only to himself) that it wasn’t without a certain… charm.   
Wiping his face, Sherlock arose, taking a mental picture of the absolute peace that had washed over John’s face. He grabbed his pants off the floor and John bolted up.  
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked.  
“Well, now that we’re done, I thought we might catch a taxi home.”  
John stood up and swiftly dragged Sherlock back down on the bed. His hand clasped again around Sherlock’s throbbing member.  
“We are NOT done.” He said, before plunging Sherlock down his throat.  
Sherlock tried to comment on John’s surprised bulged eyes. He wasn’t expecting the arousing but literally breath taking experience of the other man’s cock swelling in his esophagus, and Sherlock wasn’t expecting the overwhelming sensations flooding through his body. His release was embarrassingly fast coming, and afterwards, it took him nearly a minute to fully compose himself again. Speaking was out of the question, moving off the bed would be impossible, so he took a chance and let himself collapse next to John, who was contentedly slipping off into sleep.   
When Sherlock’s phone made a soft moan, it was inconvenient to detach himself from the sprawled mass of limbs that he and John had become during their slumber, but he moved as stealthily as possible to retrieve the phone from his pocket.   
HAVING A GOOD EVENING, MR. HOLMES?  
Sherlock smiled as he put the phone back in his pocket, accidentally dropping a hand full of cards… each with a different colored dot on it.


End file.
